The show gave a city still reeling from JFK's assassination something to celebrate.

As was the case throughout much of Europe and the United States, Beatlemania was a rampaging force in Dallas during the fall of 1964. Of course, Dallas was in the midst of another, darker new reality in the months following the November 1963 assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

British author Jonathan Gould, in his stellar 2007 book Can't Buy Me Love: The Beatles, Britain and America, references Children and the Death of a President when detailing just how deeply traumatized many American teens were by the shooting at Dealey Plaza. In Gould's interpretation of the 1965 study, he writes that the "intense feelings of grief did not appear to diminish or resolve nearly as quickly" in the teenage participants.

It's easy to surmise that this grief led to a new type of precautionary concern for parents across the country and in North Texas. In 2014, Jan Howes, the daughter of former Dallas Times Herald photographer John Mazziotta, told The Dallas Morning News that her dad had decided against letting her attend the Sept. 18, 1964, Beatles concert at Memorial Auditorium in downtown Dallas.

George Harrison (from left), Paul McCartney, John Lennon and Ringo Starr sat before a battery of microphones in Dallas on Sept. 18, 1964, as they held a news conference before their concert. (1964 File Photo / The Associated Press)

"He felt really bad, but it was right after the Kennedy assassination," she remembered. Later in 2014, on the 50th anniversary of the only Beatles concert in Dallas, Bonnie Lovell, who attended the concert with a couple of her friends and "10,000 other Beatlemaniacs," wrote about her experience in The Dallas Morning News. "Of course, the world wasn't safe," she wrote, referring to the cultural shift from Norman Rockwell-esque innocence to a more sinister reality.

Pattie Davidson was also in attendance on that hysteria-fueled night 55 years ago. The younger sister of Texas Radio Hall of Famer and 1310 "The Ticket" host Mike Rhyner, Davidson was, she says, a “socially awkward seventh-grader” at T.W. Browne Middle School. She was also “an early adopter of Beatlemania." When it came to her musical obsession, her emotions surrounding the assassination were separate in that the Beatles coming to town wasn’t a tangible relief or escape from reality, per se, but she now acknowledges a connection.

“Looking back now as an adult,” she says over the phone from Long Beach, Calif., where she’s lived for over 30 years, “I do think it was uplifting for all of us in Dallas to host the Beatles. It made us special, and it sent a message that we were better than just being a place where the president gets assassinated. Of course, we were all still processing what happened with President Kennedy.”

Pattie Davidson still has her KLIF Beatle Brigade sweatshirt from the mid-1960s.(Pattie Davidson)

Davidson, who performs in Second Wind, a band with her husband, Marc, remembers that uplifting evening clearly. She still has a number of the special keepsakes to refresh her memory should she ever need it. A “KLIF Beatle Brigade” sweatshirt, an album full of Beatles trading cards, the Fab Four cake toppers from her birthday that year, and, of course, the torn $5.50 ticket stub (Section 3A, Row RR, Seat 1). While her well-known brother has suffered from a nearly lifelong case of missed-out syndrome, Davidson has long been a proud avoider of that ailment.

Pattie Davidson describes herself as an early adopter of Beatlemania. She was in seventh grade at Dallas' T.W. Browne Middle School in 1964.(Pattie Davidson)

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“Even thinking about it now, it’s a point of pride for me," she says. "I mean, I was able to see the Beatles! People from my generation, and even the generation after mine, are pretty amazed that I got to see them.”

The relative sense of innocent safety of the time isn't the only aspect of life that's drastically different for rabid music fans in the here and now. Davidson and her best Beatles friend and concert companion, Pat Douglas, made their way to Page Rexall drugstore in Oak Cliff often to see if the latest Sixteen magazine had arrived with a new picture of their favorite group on the cover. Now, all a superfan has to do is click her phone a couple of times to get the latest news, videos and memorabilia.

“A sense of anticipation is totally lost on the world now,” she says. “No one has to have any patience now like we did back then. We had to hang on every word we heard. Every time the Beatles were on TV the world had to stop, because that’s all we would get."

On the big day, Davidson says, “it was impossible to concentrate at school, knowing what was going to happen that night.” Davidson and Douglas were dropped off at Memorial Auditorium by Pat’s mother, Eloise, who had stood in line at Preston State Bank before dawn a few months prior to procure the tickets. Because Davidson and her friend had been keen observers, they knew the scene would be a wild one, but there was still plenty to be in awe of.

“The auditorium felt so huge,” she remembers of her very first concert experience. “It seemed so humongous. By today’s standards, it’s not, but back then, to me, it was.”

The Beatles performed for about a half-hour at Memorial Auditorium in their only Dallas concert. (The Associated Press / 1964 File Photo)

Situated on the ground floor, a good way back, things didn’t seem all that wild to begin with. Fans would later find out a bomb threat delayed the opening of the doors. The performance lasted a mere 30 minutes. Although brief, the concert memories play out vividly for Davidson.

“We did our share of screaming, for sure,” she says. “The sound itself was pretty decent and the music was loud enough to overcome a lot of the noise we created, so I don’t think we got cheated out of hearing anything at all.”

Later in her teenage years, Davidson would see rock titans Jimi Hendrix and the Rolling Stones perform in Dallas, but even those special shows can’t match her first-ever concert by her all-time favorite group. Even in the ominous aftermath of the Kennedy assassination, Davidson remembers that time 55 years ago as one of sincere simplicity.

“We had no fear that night,” she says. We were young and naïve and innocent and had not been brought up in a time where kids wore bulletproof backpacks. That was our reality then. We didn’t have any apprehension regarding danger or watching out for evildoers. We were 12 and 13 and going to have fun. We got to see the Beatles."